My column is named Improvise, and thats exactly what Im going to do this month. I know Dean recently added the addition of Poetry 101 to jambands.com, but I feel that more non-linear writing is always fun to have around. The interviews, articles, and essays are great to read and write each month, but I just feel like doing something a little different. Improvising is going in the direction you feel is appropriate at any given time, so here goes. I hope you enjoy some old and new abstract writings and poetry.
Water, if acted upon just right, will surely turn to wine.
People, now, want to use Bactine, instead of Iodine.
Baseball was the countrys favorite sport,
Now the Superbowl is the sports worlds high court.
Zappa and the Mothers were once all the rage,
Now folks listen to Hanson, the band that needs time to age.
Bell-bottoms were cool, then they werent, now they are,
But, as a society, have these changes brought us very far?
We still kill, rape, maim, steal, beg, cheat, deride, and lie,
So dont say we change for the better or realize we dont, and cry.
We are superficial monkeys and we change only our tops,
Truth, beauty, love, art, and music are the only consistent crops.
Rainforest leaves, washed by rain, watched.
Animal inhabitants brawl,
They battle to live.
Their fights are uninhibited and natural.
No controversy, just impulses-
Because they are at home.
They kill one another, but never argue,
Because, in their decreasing room,
They just live.
And heres another..
The Big Swim
As time flows and the wind goes on and on.
From here to where it started as a child, formed free..
I know the salt and the breeze, the life beginning, the screeching.
Some spirits swim in, and others soak up the serious
And life-giving ocean.
Heres another one
He looks around, so high up there, hanging upside down, and now let’s go and he’s
off and humming, spinning, a blur of black
and now he needs to find his attracter so he dives into the wall of odor but there
is a huge greasy, fragrant hand moving swiftly and
air streams flowing all around, pushing his body here, there,
caught in the tidal wave of wind and cartwheeling over and over until the blast settles,
and following the light now, he can smell the freedom….
almost there, closer now, almost there and bing – boing – bong – rat – tap – tap
against the black mesh from which the freshness leaks through and
up it goes and tumbling again with the chaotic force of an ocean wave
pushing out and into the bright heat and vast freedom when he spies a snapping animal,
its mouth open, drippy tongue waggling, and lands on its back for a split second then
of the furry tail and back into the air,
but the goal has been spotted and coming down on target
the brown sphere of sweet stench
gets closer and closer until he can
feel his sticky feet touch down
into the surface with a
And heres one final poem about music.
Dough being kneaded between the musician’s fingers-
Ray of multi-dimensional light opening ears-
Me and you, all smiles as we dance to the beat-
Far away, one can still feel the pulsing bass-
So many twists, turns, and possibilities-
Lot to digest when absorbing this art-
Tea time for the heart and soul-
Don’t take it for granted-
Thanks to anyone who read these poems. I truly appreciate it. If you want to share some of your poems with me or tell me what you think of mine, feel free. Its Zink@jambands.com See you next month.